


When You See Me

by Mauve_Avenger



Series: Out of Yesterday's Ashes [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Divergence, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauve_Avenger/pseuds/Mauve_Avenger
Summary: When Katara can't abandon people who need her, she dons a new mantle to help in secret. Along the way, she finds a new, mysterious ally in the Blue Spirit and comes to understand that sometimes people wear more than one mask.





	When You See Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redstapler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redstapler/gifts).



If she were completely honest with herself, at least part of Katara's motivation for what she did was to reclaim some sense of control. Not, of course that helping people wasn't her main cause. She had a gift, and she always intended to use it in service of others. Still, after mastering waterbending, that service seemed to be limited to camp chores and training her less than focused friend with the occasional interruption of a battle against some Fire Nation royal or other when they couldn’t run away.

 

They ran a lot.

 

Katara hated running.

 

The village was home to a pocket of refugees who had been relegated to a dirty, ramshackle section near the edge of the town. Disease had set up a home there as well. At first Katara’s friends seemed to share her concern for the poor, sick and dying, but when she told them she wanted to see what she could do for them, she was met with resistance.

 

“We can’t afford to call that kind of attention to ourselves,” Sokka told her. Katara glared into their campfire, her jaw set stubbornly. Sokka _hated_ that look. It very rarely meant anything good. He sat next to his sister and put an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, I know how you feel.”

 

“Sure,” Katara muttered unbelievingly, but she didn’t pull away.

 

“I _do_ ,” her brother insisted. “I know you. You want to help everyone. Tui and La, it’s why we’re here in the first place instead of home. It’s the best thing about you!” Sokka sighed and gave his sister the same look their father gave him when he wanted to go with the warriors. “And honestly, it's also the worst  thing about you. You have to understand, Katara, we _can’t_ fix everything. _You_ can’t fix everything. Not alone. I know it sucks, but there’s nothing we can do for those people.”

 

“I'm with Katara on this,”Aang said. Toph let out a bari of laughter.

 

“Of course you are,” she drawled. Aang's face flushed and his eyes darted nervously from Katara to Toph and back. Toph continued, ignoring Aang. “I _really_ hate to admit it, but Sokka's right this time Sugar Queen. You should probably listen to him this once.”

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” Sokka rounded on Toph indignantly. “What do you mean you _hate to admit it?”_ Toph shot a cheeky grin in Sokka's direction.

 

“I’m a _healer_ ,” Katara reminded him, cutting off what promised to be a bickering session between the two. “I can help!” She started to get up, but Sokka pulled her back.

 

“Katara, you’re a _waterbender_ ,” he said. “There are too many Fire Nation soldiers around to risk it. I’m just asking you to be a _little_ pragmatic right now. What happens to you- to Aang. To _all_ of us- if you get caught by some Fire Nation jackboots because you want to play doctor?” Katara scowled at Sokka and pushed him away from her.

 

“Thanks, Sokka,” she grumbled.

 

“Hey!” Sokka protested. He moved away from Katara and sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is that helping in this case is too dangerous. What if the wrong person sees you?”

 

“I won’t get caught!” Katara promised.

“It’s too dangerous.” Sokka folded his arms. “I don’t do this often, but I’m pulling rank.” Katara leapt to her feet and scowled at her brother.

 

“What makes you think _you_ have rank?” she demanded.  
  
“ _I’m_ the oldest,” Sokka told her. He stood up so he could look down at Katara.

 

“So what?” Katara fixed Sokka with a glare she usually reserved for Fire Nation soldiers. “ _I’ve_ been taking care of _you_ since Mom died. You being older than me means absolutely nothing.” Sokka didn't want to admit that she had a point.

 

“Well, _I’m_ the team’s strategy guy,” he tried instead. “I make the plans, and I’m vetoing yours.”

 

“Yeah, _that's_ the way to get Katara to see reason,” Toph laughed. The siblings replied in almost perfect harmony.

 

“ _Shut up,_ Toph!” She only laughed harder.

 

“I'm really glad you find this so funny,” Katara grumbled. Aang cleared his throat and shifted on his feet uneasily, a clear sign that he was about to say something that he thought would make someone mad at him.

 

“You know,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe...maybe Sokka's right.” Katara fixed him with an ice cold glare. Aang ducked behind Toph and laughed nervously. “I mean I think it would be great if we _could_  help, but I don't want to see you get hurt or anything.”

 

“It looks like you’re outnumbered, Katara,” Toph said. Katara started to protest, but Toph cut her off with an uncharacteristic show of empathy. “I know it’s hard for you to not help, but we need you, too. If you get in trouble out there, all of us will be in danger, because there’s no way we’re not coming after you.’ Katara said nothing. Her friends were right, although she couldn’t say it out loud. They made sense, but it didn’t chase the wide frightened eyes of the mothers dying of wasting disease, or the distended bellies of the starving babies.

 

“It’s too bad the Painted Lady isn’t around,” Aang sighed. Katara very carefully didn’t look at him. They had heard the story of the Fire Nation spirit a month earlier, when she and her friends found themselves in a Fire Nation colony. It had been entertaining enough at the time, but none of them had given it much thought afterwards. Now, though, Katara began to turn the story over in her mind. Now she remembered that the Painted Lady had been a river dwelling spirit.

 

“Katara?” Sokka called not for the first time. Katara's cheeks flushed. Her friends could surely see the beginnings of the plan written on her face.

 

“Yeah?” Katara managed to respond. Should she smile? No. She had just been upset. That would look suspicious. She pulled her lips down into a slight frown. Sokka's brows furrowed in concern.

 

“You alright?” he asked. Katara snorted and rolled her eyes.

 

“Sure,” she mumbled. That felt like a normal reaction. Sokka seemed to be expecting it, anyway. He sighed and shook his head. He started to change the topic

 

“It's almost time for dinner-”

 

“It's your turn to cook,” Katara snapped. Sokka held his hands up defensively.

 

“I know,” he said. “I was just going to ask you to help with the water.” Katara stood up and walked towards Appa.

 

“Aang can do it,” she told him. Aang's shoulders slumped forward and he groaned.

 

“Aw!” he whined. “But I did it yesterday!” Katara shot him another cold glare over her shoulder, daring him to keep complaining. Aang immediately straighten up and sprang into action. “On second thought, I could use the walk.”

 

“Nice save, Aang,” Toph laughed. Aang glowered at her uselessly as he grabbed the cooking pot.

 

“You could get the water, Toph,” he grumbled. Toph gasped and clutched at her throat.

 

“You expect the poor blind girl to go all the way to the river for water?”

 

“Come off it, Toph!” Aang made a face at her. “You’re _barely_ blind. You should help with the chores, too.” Toph leapt to her feet and stomped on the ground. Two earthen tents sprang from the ground on either side of the campfire. She dusted her hands off and turned to Aang with a cheeky grin.

 

“There,” she said smugly. “I helped.”

 

“Not what I meant.” Aang held the pot out to Toph pleadingly. “Seriously, can’t you do it?”  Toph shook her head.

 

“Hey! Momtara told _you_ to do it,” she said. “And I’d get on that before she comes back and you’re _still_ whining about it.”

“Just do it,” Sokka ordered Aang. “Or no one eats.” Aang scowled and headed towards the river, grumbling the whole time.

 

From her perch in Appa's saddle, Katara sighed in relief that she didn’t have to intervene. Then she scowled to herself. She loved Aang dearly, but sometimes he wore her patience thin with his childishness. But there was no time to worry about that. She turned her attention back to her task.

 

There wasn't much she could do just then by way of supplies. She had no clothes in red, but she could borrow Aang's rain hat, and make use of Sokka's brown oilcloth. It wasn't much by way of a disguise, but it would do for now. The red paint would be the hardest to improvise, but she wasn't worried. She hid the hat and cloth among her things. The weather has been nice, so there was little chance Sokka and Aang would notice their things missing.

 

When she was done, Katara stretched out in Appa's saddle. She had made a big show of storming off, and showing up before dinner was ready might ruin the effect. Besides she was relishing not having any chores to do for once. She yawned, and rolled on to her side, wondering if she could bully her friends into pulling their weight all the time.

-:-:-:-:-:-

 

There was a learning curve to vigilante healing, Katara soon found out. The first night she went out as the Painted Lady, wearing borrowed clothes and covered in the Lady's markings painted on her face and arms in dried, flaking mud, Katara had nearly been caught by Fire Nation soldiers patrolling the slums.

 

When they spotted her, Katara had panicked and turned down a fenced in alley. The night was dark, and in the inadequate light of their low burning torches, the soldiers had mistaken Katara for an Earth Kingdom refugee out past curfew. She managed to escape by creating a small bank of fog. It was just barely enough cover, but it's appearance in the cramped alley out of nowhere startled the soldiers enough that she was able to scramble over the fence while they twisted their hands into symbols meant to ward away evil. Fortunately for Katara they hadn't seemed to be firebenders. She managed to get away with just a small tear in Sokka's cloth, having healed the worst of the fever ravaging the community. Her reward was a crimson robe she had liberated from a clothes line, and a length of cheesecloth she took from a merchant's stall- this she paid for with a copper piece.

 

Her companions were still sleeping when she got back to camp a few short hours from dawn. Katara was grateful. She made her way carefully to Appa, carrying her disguise and new clothes. Appa opened one eye and regarded her with a sleepy grunt.

“Just me, big guy,” Katara whispered, rubbing his side. “Go back to sleep.” Appa grunted again before he obliged her. Katara slipped Sokka’s cloth back into his bag and stowed Aang’s hat with his belongings. Then Katara tightly rolled the new cloak and sheer cloth together and shoved it into the bottom of her bag. She looked over at her sleeping friends with a thrill of exhilaration. She had done it! She had saved the refugees and she had done it without being caught either by soldiers or her friends. She felt accomplish. She felt powerful. She felt tired.

 

Once she had gotten most of the mud off of her skin, Katara crawled into her sleeping bag and drifted of with a smile on her lips.

 

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

She was getting good at this. Katara's lips curled into a small, private smile beneath her veil as she glided into through the dark. After nearly a month of perfecting her routine, Katara felt untouchable. Close scrapes with patrols had become rare, and on those occasions when she was spotted, the ethereal effect of her flowing red robes and the mists she created were enough to send even the most hardened soldier shrieking into the night.

 

Yesan was a small Earth Kingdom village- and calling it even that was generous. Katara and her friends had arrived a day earlier, but decided to camp out rather than try to find a place to stay. Not that they weren’t offered beds and meals- anything for the Avatar and his companions, of course. But the obvious poverty of the village made taking even their most meager hospitality seem cruel to the four friends. They stayed in the town long enough to meet some of the citizens and share a meal, to which they added some salted meat from their own supplies. It was long enough for Katara to find out about the wasting sickness that was ravaging the village.

 

Now Katara slipped into the small, foul smelling building that housed the village’s sick. Bunked beds lined the two longest walls, all full, and the spaces between the beds were filled with makeshift cots. Illness had arrived in Yesan with a vengeance, and Death was not far behind. Katara reached into her robes and unfastened a water skin- one of four she carried- and surrounded her hands with it. The Painted Lady had work to do.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

Zuko wondered if one good deed was enough to balance out all the wrong he had done. At the very least, the sore back he was bound to have in the morning had to be worth _something_ to the cosmic balance against him. Had Iroh been there, he probably would have told his nephew that it was no coincidence that he had happened upon this particular town that day. Zuko would have retorted that it was his own bad luck that the first town he had stumbled upon in nearly two weeks was too poor for him to take any provisions from. The fact that a troop of Fire Nation soldiers had set up camp at the nearby coast was just the universe adding insult to injury. The fact that he had decided to steal food from them to bring to the village was just good old-fashioned stupidity on his part. But once he had seen the sick and dying in the town’s infirmary, his bleeding heart conscious wouldn’t let him leave without trying to help at least a little.

 

He paused in the trees where the woods gave way to the small village and listened for any sign of a patrol. There was nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees. Certain that he was alone, Zuko set the crate he was carrying on the ground. It wasn’t much by way of supplies, but it was more than the sick and dying of Yesan had just then. And it was all he could carry on his own. The Fire Nation sigil had been branded into the top of the crate, and although Zuko was fairly certain the troop he had stolen the rations from wouldn’t even notice it was missing, he pulled it off the crate and burned it to ash. The last thing he needed was any evidence of where the food had come from on the off chance the soldiers did come looking. Then he hoisted the crate onto his shoulder and slid silently through the shadows towards the infirmary.

 

At first, Zuko thought the dim glow he saw through the door was the end of someone’s candle lighting the room. Then he noticed it was the wrong color- a pale bluish-white color instead of the normal reddish-orange of a flame. Then it abruptly went out, and the slight swish of fabric was the only warning Zuko had that he was about to be caught. The veiled figure shrouded in red stood in the doorway staring at Zuko- he could only assume- for a long tense moment. Zuko, cursing his horrible luck even when trying to do something good,  wondered if he was going to have to throw the crate down and fight. But the figure just tilted it’s head curiously and waited to see what Zuko would do. Moving slowly, he set the crate down and took a step back. He felt as if he were leaving an offering for a spirit. He may very well have been. The figure seemed to glide over to the box. The light from the waxing crescent moon illuminated the figure enough for Zuko to see the curve of a shoulder marked with red paint leading to a slender neck and crimson lips. It was a woman, he realized. _No_ , it was a Lady. The Painted Lady. Forcing back a gasp, Zuko knelt with his head nearly touching his overlapped hands. His uncle had been right, it seemed, about the spirits moving through the physical world. Was he about to be punished for his crimes?

Katara’s eyes widened when the Blue Spirit- it couldn’t be anyone else she decided- knelt  before her. _Her._ As if she were true royalty and not just the chief's daughter  of a crippled tribe. She thought she would have to fight him when she found him standing at the door, but then he set down the box of food and Katara realized that he was on the same mission as her. This, though…

 

The point of wearing the mantle of the Painted Lady was to act anonymously and maybe scare off anyone who happened to get too close. She expected people to flee at the sight of her, not genuflect. Straightening her shoulders to hide her awkwardness, Katara reached down and touched the Blue Spirit’s shoulder, noticing for the first time the dao swords Aang had told them about. He flinched slightly at her touch- did he think she would hurt him?- and looked up slowly. Katara angled her hat and veil down to keep her face in shadow, and motioned for him to stand. He was taller than her by some inches, but Katara drew herself to her full height and turned back towards the infirmary. Behind her she heard the shuffling as he grabbed the crate and followed her inside.

 

Zuko for his part was doing his best not to show how much he was trembling. He had been since the Painted Lady touched him. It had been gentle- a compassionate caress rather than the blow he had been expecting. She had stopped just ahead of him and pointed to a desk in the corner. Zuko set the crated down. Then for the first time he noticed stirring in the beds. It was too dark to tell, but the energy of the room had changed. When he had seen the patients earlier, they had trembled with ague and moaned in pain. Now he heard the sounds of peaceful sleep. He remembered the stories his mother and  uncle had told him about the Painted Lady when he was younger. Had she healed all of these people?

 

Zuko turned back to her to find empty space. When had she left? He scrambled to the door and froze. There she was where the forest met the village, watching him. Zuko frowned behind his mask. Was she _really_ a spirit?

 

Katara stood at the edge of the trees and stared at the man a few yards from her. The sharp dao swords were sheathed in the scabbard on his back, but there was still an air of danger around him. He was as human as Katara, she could tell right off, but that didn’t make him less imposing. He was staring back at her, or so she assumed. She couldn’t see his eyes past the grinning blue mask from which he got his name.

 

 _Who are you?_ Katara wanted to ask. He hadn’t uttered so much as a grunt since they had met, not even when he had fallen to his knees earlier. Well, Katara decided after far too many minutes of staring at each other, if he was going to be mysterious and silent, so would she. With a respectful nod at the Blue Spirit, she surrounded herself with a mist and retreated to the river.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

The Painted Lady’s reputation began to precede her. Soon Katara and her friends were hearing rumors of her in towns and villages that they had never been to before.

 

“Do you think it’s really her?” Aang asked his friends excitedly. “Do you think it’s the _real_ Painted Lady?”  Sokka shrugged.

 

“Weirder things have happened,” he replied. “Although, what a Fire Nation spirit is doing helping the poor and healing the sick in backwater Earth Kingdom villages refugee camps is beyond me.”

 

“Maybe she’s trying to make amends for what her people have done,” Katara suggested. “Maybe she’s as sick and tired of the Fire Nation’s nonsense as the rest of the world.”

 

She had prepared dinner for the evening. Just before she added meat to the stew, she made Aang his own big bowl of thin broth and vegetables with a frown. Was this even enough sustenance for him? No wonder he had been getting so thin.  

 

“I’d love to meet her,” Aang said. He took the bowl from Katara and started eating with alacrity. “Maybe I could pick her brain about the Spirit World.”

 

“Or maybe she’s just another do-gooder like the Blue Spirit,” Toph said. “Maybe she’s just some chick in a costume taking stolen medicine to the sick-” Katara tried not to react to that and played her flinch off as avoiding splashing herself with the boiling liquid as she filled everyone's bowls. Toph laughed and added, “Maybe it’s actually the _Blue Spirit_ in a different costume.”

 

“No way.” Aang shook his head vehemently. “I’ve _met_ the Blue Spirit. He’s _definitely_ a he.” Toph shrugged carelessly.

 

“So what?” she sniffed. “Maybe he likes to dress in drag, too.” Aang’s face went strangely pink and he buried his face in his stew to hide either a cough or a laugh, Katara couldn’t really tell.

 

“Never mind trying to contact her,” she told Aang. “If she wants to speak to you, I'm sure she'll find you.”

 

“But none of the other spirits I've met have come to me,” Aang protested. “What harm could it do to just poke around a bit? _Maybe_ she can give me some advice about dealing with Ozai?  The Fire Nation _is_ her country, you know.” Katara clutched her bowl and bit down hard on her tongue. Getting angry at Aang would look strange. Instead she mumbled something noncommittally and motioned at his bowl.

 

“Finish eating,” she ordered instead. “And don't forget, it’s your turn to wash the dishes.”

 

“Do I have to?” Aang complained. Katara fixed him with a steely cold gaze. It seemed she would be able to vent some of her frustration after all. 

 

“Everyone pitches in,” she snapped at him. “I cooked,  Sokka caught dinner, Toph set up camp, you clean. I am so tired of you whining every time you’re asked to do something. If you do it again, I’m putting you on dish duty for the rest of the week.” Katara had suddenly lost her appetite. She stood abruptly and left the campfire, shoving the rest of her food at Sokka.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked, accepting the bowl eagerly.

“To the river,” she told him. “I need to practice.” Behind her she could hear Toph snickering at Aang for getting in trouble.

 

“Katara’s mothering is pretty hilarious when it’s not happening to me,” she heard Toph chortle. Katara rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag from Appa’s saddle before heading to the river. She had never asked to be anyone’s mother, yet she had felt like the single mother of three unruly children the entire journey. She didn’t find the situation nearly as funny as her friends. Fighting with everyone to pitch in was exhausting, and she would rather spend her precious energy on more worthwhile tasks.

 

They had passed a village on their search for a spot to camp. Initially, they had wanted to see if they could finesse a place to stay and maybe some food for the night, but when Katara and Sokka had gone to scope out the town, they had found signs of a heavy Fire Nation presence. Somehow a troop- Sokka suspected they were rogues- had made it to this small inland village and claimed it as their own. Sokka had fixed her with a warning glare before grabbing her wrist and pulled her  unresistingly back to Appa and the others. That night, the Gaang had set up camp a good ten miles from town, but Katara thought that if she used the river, she could make it to the town and back before sunup. With a quick, decisive nod, Katara stowed her disguise among the thick brush by the river and started working through her bending forms.

 

\--------

The moon was full that night. Katara watched it rise as she and her friends prepared for bed with a sense of anticipation. Tonight the Painted Lady had a very new sort of mission. Usually she went out to heal. Tonight she would bring destruction and vengeance. The troop that had claimed the village was small. There were fewer than fifty men, if Katara had  estimated correctly and only a few seemed to be firebenders. All they had were weapons on their side, and the Painted Lady would make sure that by morning that advantage would be gone.

 

It was amazing, Katara reflected, how little it took to shake a bully. A little fog, a little moonlight, a little ice to throw them off balance and grown men scattered like children rushing to hide in their mother's skirts. The troops had only set a guard of two or three men, and Katara spotted one empty bottle on the ground before she covered the area in a fog. She smirked to herself. This would be easier than she thought. She smirked to herself as she moved forward. This would be easier than she thought.

 

“It’s her!” someone shouted. “It’s the Painted Lady!”

 

The screams of the guards had alerted the other sleeping soldiers. They began trickling out of the inn they had taken over, blinking in confusion at the low lying fog. Katara bent a sheet of ice beneath her feet and used it to slide along the packed dirt of the road, giving her the illusion of floating. Someone shrieked in terror when they saw her, and many of the soldiers broke rank, ignoring the shouted orders of their commander. The rest of the town heard the commotion and soon there were heads peeking from windows and around doors to see what was happening. It was exactly what Katara was hoping for. She wouldn’t be able to take out all of the soldiers on her own, but once she destroyed their weapons, they would be essentially defenseless against the emboldened townsfolk.

 

“Please spare us, my Lady!” One soldier had rushed towards her and fell to his knees. Katara could hardly see his prostrated form through the thick mist, and she knew he couldn’t see her face. Still she sneered at the sniveling coward.

 

“Should I show you the same mercy you have shown the people of this village?” she asked in a low voice. She tried to copy the way the shamanka in her village spoke when she recited the Stories of the Ancestors. Husky and gruff and cold as a mid-winter night. It was nothing like the voice of a teenage girl just coming to womanhood. It worked.

 

The soldiers scattered in a panicked frenzy. They rushed into the inn and grabbed their weapons, despite the few who screamed down the uselessness of physical weapons against a spirit. Katara’s heart sped up in her chest, reminding her that she was very much not a spirit. She dropped her hands to her sides as the armed men lined up outside of the inn, firearms aimed in her direction. This is what she had hoped for. Katara didn’t have her brother’s knowledge of mechanics, but she understood enough to know how to break them. Subtly, she directed the mist into the barrels and triggers and froze them solid. The first soldier pulled the trigger and the weapon exploded in his hand. Pained cries let Katara know that there had been collateral damage, and her lip twitched up in a smirk. Another soldier and then another tried to fire a shot with the same results. Then Katara forced more of the mist into the remaining weapons and was rewarded by the sharp snap of wood and metal cracking.

 

Had Katara not draped the area in so much mist, she might have noticed that not all of the soldiers were in formation outside of the inn. Had Toph been there, she would have known that there were three archers getting into position behind Katara. Had Sokka been there, he would have warned her not to forget that these rogue soldiers were still trained soldiers and that she shouldn’t underestimate their skills. Unfortunately none of her friends even knew she was there. Fortunately she wasn’t alone.

 

The sound of metal sliding against metal alerted Katara to the attempted attack from behind her. She turned to find the Blue Spirit deflecting the last arrow meant for her.

\--------

 

Zuko hated bullies more than anything. In spite of all the terrible, dishonorable things he had been forced to do over the past few weeks to survive, he could never bring himself to take advantage of people who had even less than he did. So when he came upon the small, isolated village that had been forced to recognize a group of rogue soldiers as their liege lords, Zuko felt the righteous anger well up inside of him. It grew into a fire of rage in his belly when he realized that the rogue soldiers were his own countrymen. He no longer had the power as Crown Prince of the Fire Nation to put a stop to their tyranny, but maybe the Blue Spirit could do something about it.

 

He had no plan that night as he watched the full moon climb to its highest point, but he chose not to dwell on that. He pulled his mask down over his face and made his way towards the village. Something would come to him he was sure.

 

Nothing did, but he found that it didn’t matter.

 

Zuko stumbled onto a scene of a battle. The road outside of the inn had been blanketed with a heavy mist, which in the moonlight gave everything an eerie silvery tint. In the center of the fog, the Painted Lady faced a row of Fire Nation soldiers bearing new weapons that Zuko had only seen up close once. From his vantage point, he could see what the Painted Lady hadn’t seemed to. He saw the three soldiers split off from the others and creep through the mist to their positions behind the Lady. He saw them nock the arrows and take aim. He saw that the very human way the Painted Lady had failed to take notice of  them. He saw what he had to do.

 

He crossed the field, swords drawn, just in time to knock two arrows away from the Painted Lady’s exposed back. The final arrow found its way into Zuko’s thigh. He bit back a grunt of pain as he crouched into a defensive position. Behind him, him heard the Painted Lady snarl in anger, and suddenly the archers in the  woods were pinned down with pointed shards of ice. It didn’t sound like any of them were dead- Zuko was sure he heard three distinct cries of agony- but they were hurt. And Zuko was now certain he knew exactly who wore the mantle of the Painted Lady. He couldn’t say anything just then, though. The villagers had emerged from their homes and were watching the fight from a safe distance. The Painted Lady saw them, and Zuko thought he saw her smile.

 

“Can you face these people without your weapons?” she asked the soldiers in voice that had absolutely chilled Zuko the first time he heard it in the siege in of the Northern Tribe. “Perhaps you should start begging _them_ for mercy.” Zuko saw the crowd begin to close in around them. He did not envy the soldiers at all. He tried to make his escape, but stumbled on his injured leg. He felt the Painted Lady’s  hand close around his arm, and then she was dragging him through the suddenly thicker mist. Once they broke through the treeline, the woman threw Zuko’s arm around her shoulders and half carried him towards the river. She was saying something to him, but the sudden ringing in Zuko’s ears made it impossible to understand.

 

She set him down against a tree and used a sharp shard of ice to cut a strip of fabric from her robes. Zuko wanted to tell her not to do that, but his tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what actually came out of his mouth, but it didn’t matter. She ignored him and tied the strip of cloth above the arrow jutting from his leg. It was bleeding profusely Zuko now realized. That wasn’t good. The Painted Lady hoisted him up again and continued to hurry them to the river.

 

Zuko heard rather than saw when they arrived at their destination. By then he was too focused on not losing consciousness to register anything his eyes were seeing. The Painted Lady lay him down by the bank and went to do something at the water’s edge. Zuko turned his eyes to the trees above his head and focused on one long, thick branch until the fuzziness became too much to fight. His breathing was becoming labored as he bled out and his heart worked harder to move what was left of his blood through his body. In his delirium, Zuko reached up to the edge of his mask and tried to pull it down. The Painted Lady noticed him struggling and hurried back to his side. She grabbed the sides of his mask, and before he could stop her, she had pulled the mask away from his face. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was a sharp gasp.

 

\-------

 

Katara stared in shock at the prince lying prone at her feet. This had to be some sort of trick. She watched him for a long moment, waiting for him to jump up and attack, but he just lay there, bleeding out on the ground.

 

This could be the end of one dire problem, Katara thought. Zuko had been nothing but an annoyingly persistent threat to the Gaang for months, and now his crazy sister and her friends were after them too. If she let Zuko die, and he certainly would judging by the blood still seeping from his wound, then there would be one less Fire Nation royal after them.

 

Katara took another step back towards the river. Zuko groaned, and she froze. Zuko was the Blue Spirit. He had saved Aang’s life once. And he had spared Katara’s life in the siege of the North. The arrow in  his leg had been meant for her, too. So that was three life debts she owed him. With a side, Katara dropped to his side and removed her hat, veil and robes. She checked the scrap of fabric she had tied above the wound and prepared to pull the arrow out. She knew once she pulled it out she wouldn’t have much time to act. She had already prepared by filling her water skin at the river so the water would be immediately on hand.

 

As she expected, once the arrow was removed, the blood started rushing out even faster. She surrounded her hands with water and pressed it to the wound. The arrow had nicked what she knew was a major artery. There was a strange pull on the blood as Katara tried to stop the bleeding. It was as if the blood was trying to respond to her bending, too. The bleeding began to slow, and soon, the worst of the cut began to close.  Zuko was still and pale, but his breathing had slowed to a regular pace. He would survive the night. Katara stood up, wiping the sweat from her brow, and wondered if that was a good thing after all.

 

A few moments later, Zuko stirred.  His eyes fluttered and Katara searched for her hat and veil. Where had she put them?

 

“I thought it was you,” Zuko said a bit dazedly. He squinted at Katara as if he were trying to bring her face into focus.

 

“That makes one of us.” Katara glared down at him. How was he awake, she wondered. He had lost enough blood that he should have been out for much longer. What in the world was he made of?

 

Zuko sat up slowly. Katara made no move to help him, but she didn’t back away. Zuko’s hand went to his leg, grasping for the arrow or the wound. He found a bloody hole in his pants, but his flesh beneath was unharmed.

 

“You… healed me?” He looked up at Katara sharply, his good brow drawn down in confusion. “Why?”  Katara’s mouth tightened into an angry line.

 

“A life for a life,” she told him. “That arrow was meant for me. Now we’re even.” Zuko looked from her to his leg and back.

 

“You could have left me to die,” Zuko observed quietly. “It would have been the smart thing to do.” Katara examined his face in the moonlight.

 

“If I were smart, I wouldn't have been here at all. Yet here we are.”

 

“Aren't you worried I'll hurt you?” Zuko pressed. “I could hold you here until your friends come looking for you.” Now Katara smirked.

 

“You _could_ try it,” she agreed. “But you won't.” Zuko pushed himself into his knees. It made him look predatory, as if he would launch himself at Katara, like a hyena leopard about to take down a dik dik.

 

“You don't know what I'm capable of,” he warned her. “Capturing the Avatar is still my only way home. The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady are allies. _We_ aren't.” The smirk didn't leave Katara's face, but it took on a bitter edge. Zuko didn't move.

 

“I just saved your life,” she said. “You may be a terrible person, but you're also an honorable one. You won't attack me.” Zuko's eyes widened and then narrowed at her threateningly.

 

“Would you bet your life on that?”

 

“No,” Katara admitted. “But would you bet _your_ life on a fight against a master waterbender? By a river? During a full moon? In your condition?” Zuko looked from the lazily flowing river behind Katara to the full moon hanging low in the sky and sighed. The simple motion of dropping his shoulders and resting his elbows on his knees changed his entire attitude. Instead of crouching like a hunter, he kneeled in supplication. Katara felt pride well up in her chest. She had just defeated Prince Zuko without a drop of water.

 

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “maybe I'll take _you_ prisoner instead. What do you think I'll get as ransom for the Fire Lord's son?” Zuko snorted.

 

“Less than the bounty you'd get for the Blue Spirit,” he assured her. “I'm worth nothing as a hostage.” Katara frowned at that. She was sure he was lying- after all, he was the prince of the Fire Nation. And yet…

 

While she was healing him, she noticed that he looked like he had lost weight since she had seen him last. His clothes looked dingy, as if they hadn't had a good wash in a while. He smelled like he needed a bath. This was the Crown Prince of the most powerful nation in the world. He should have had access to all sorts of amenities, even here in the Earth Kingdom. Katara frowned.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Zuko curiously. He looked up at her, his brow knit together in confusion.

 

“What do you mean?” Katara motioned at him with her hand.

 

“Any of this,” she said, clarifying nothing. “You come out and fight your own people to defend the helpless, you fed poor and sick refugees, but you're trying so hard to kill the one person who could stop this war and help establish peace.” Zuko leaned back in alarm and sent himself sprawling to the ground. He landed with his legs at odd angles in front of him and his hands holding him up from behind. He wasn't much older than Katara, she suddenly, firmly realized. She had always known it peripherally, but now here was evidence in awkward way he held himself while not hunting or fighting, and in the shamed flush across the unmarred skin of his face, and in the complete naivety of his reply.

 

“I don't want to _kill_ the Avatar,” Zuko insisted. “I don't want to hurt any of you.”

 

“You don't?” Katara was genuinely surprised. “You have a real funny way of showing it. So what's  the plan here, Zuko? Capture Aang and what...throw tea party for him?” Zuko dropped his gaze to the dirt beneath him. He could make a break for it, he realized. He wouldn't be able to best Katara in a fight right now- she had all the advantages, and he was still feeling the effects of blood loss- but he could run. Maybe.

 

“My father wants me to bring him the Avatar,” he told her quietly.

 

“Ah, so _he's_ the one throwing the tea party,” Katara said snidely. “If you take Aang to your father, it's as good as killing him. It's as good as killing all of us with your own hands. All the people we've helped will be for nothing, you know. If this war doesn't end, neither will all their suffering.” Zuko's hands dug into the dark fabric of his pants and he gritted his teeth.

 

“You don't know that,” he said. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden burning behind them. “You don't know that. If I go home, I could…”

 

“You could what?” Katara demanded. “What could you do by taking the Avatar to his death? Stop the war?”  Zuko's eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet. Katara stumbled back a few steps and curled her fingers instinctively. She felt the water from the river respond immediately, but Zuko didn't attack.

 

“Don't you see?” he pleaded. “If I capture the Avatar, my honor will be restored. I'll have my place back, not just in my family, but my crown. I'll be the next in line for the throne. When I'm Fire Lord, I'll have the power to end this war. I can release the Avatar.” Katara shook her head sadly. There was something that looked too close to pity in her eyes. It infuriated Zuko.

 

“By the time that happens, your father will have burned the whole world to ash.” Zuko's fists clenched and his shoulders crept up to his ears. She was wrong. The Fire Nation only used force when they had to. And only against people who deserved it.

 

Song's face flashed through his mind. Her kind, sympathetic smile as she confided that she, too carried scars from the Fire Nation. What, Zuko wondered had she done to deserve that?

 

Katara was watching him carefully. He didn't like that. Azula had always said that he wore his thoughts too close to the surface. Could Katara see through him that easily?

 

“Your father ordered to have me killed,” she said after a long moment. It was a matter of fact statement rather than an accusation. She may as well have been discussing the weather. Zuko stared at her, unsure of how to respond.

 

“I'm…” He let the word hang in the air between them, unable to finish.

 

“I was six,” she told him. Then she laughed humorlessly. “Six! He wanted me dead because I was the last waterbender in my tribe. He didn't know anything else about me. Which is the only reason I'm still alive. Do you think it would have mattered to him to know that the person he felt so threatened  by was a six year old?” Again she spoke far too casually. Zuko couldn't meet her eyes.

 

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.  

 

“I didn't think so,” Katara murmured. “Aang is twelve. What do you think your father will do to him?” Unconsciously, Zuko's hand reached up to his face.

 

“I… don't know.”

 

Ozai had ordered the Avatar captured alive. Zuko knew the plan was to keep him imprisoned and alive so the next Avatar wouldn't be born. But it suddenly occurred to him how long someone could be tortured without dying. Zuko shuddered. His father wouldn't…

 

_She had been six._

 

Zuko cursed every choice that had led him to this place, standing across from Katara. He saw everything slipping away from him- his home, his family, his throne. Ozai was right, he was too soft, because now Zuko knew he could never hand Aang over to his father. Not after admitting to himself what he had always known about the young boy’s fate.

 

“I should go,” Katara said. She gathered her hat, cloak, and veil keeping a wary eye on Zuko. He didn't move to stop her. She backed up towards the river, calling up a mist around her as she went. When it dispersed a minute later, Katara was gone. And so was any lingering hope for his future.

 

_\---------_

 

Zuko had never realized how deeply tied his sense of purpose was to chasing the Avatar until he made the decision to stop. There was simply nowhere else for him to go. He had left his uncle weeks ago, and though he was sure Iroh was heading for Ba Sing Se, there was no real way for him to know. It seemed to be the direction the Avatar seemed to be going in, too. Without any other plan, continuing to follow the Avatar and his friends seemed to be as good an idea as any.

 

He kept his distance from the group. While they passed through villages as often as possible, he rarely left the woods. The Avatar would probably be able to trade on the hope and goodwill of the Earth Kingdom citizens for food and a place to stay, but Zuko had to make due with what he could steal. Even if he hadn’t been disowned by the Fire Lord, the further into the interior of the Earth Kingdom, the more dangerous it would be for Prince Zuko to travel. So he traveled in secret, and he took what he could.

 

The Blue Spirit became his way to assuage his guilt during this time. He stole only from the well off, and gave the excess to the poor. On these expeditions, he was careful not to be seen, or to take anything that looked like it might be missed. The last thing he needed was to catch unwanted attention.

 

“They say she’s a spirit.” The masked figure paused in the alley at that. He crept as close as he dared to the two patrolmen chatting by the flickering lamplight.

 

“Do you really think it’s her?” one of the men asked. “She’s just a legend.” His friend shrugged.

 

“The Avatar is here,” he said. “Why not the Painted Lady, too?”

 

Behind his mask, Zuko’s lips twitched up into something between a grimace and a smile. Why not the Painted Lady, indeed. He should have guessed that Katara would still be at it. Avoiding attention just became even more of an imperative.

 

From then on, Zuko took care to stay in the deepest shadows. More than once, he spotted the flowing red robes of the Painted Lady, but fortunately for him he always saw her first. Part of him wondered what Katara would do if she caught him so close to her and her friends. They had last parted on peaceful, if cool terms, but Zuko didn't think they would stay peaceful if the formidable waterbender thought he was still trying to catch the Avatar. In his current state- half starved and constantly exhausted- he didn’t think he could put up much of a fight. Though, he reflected, that might compel Katara to go easy on him if they ever did meet.

 

The closer they got to Ba Sing Se, the closer the villages were settled together. It made it easier for Zuko to avoid the Katara and her friends. When he confirmed that they had landed in one village, he made his camp a few miles away near another. That put a stop to his Painted Lady sightings, to his relief. It mattered far less if the Blue Spirit happened to be spotted. And so he made his way to Ba Sing Se.

 

All things considered, Zuko thought he shouldn’t have been surprised to find his uncle among the refugees on the ferry to Ba Sing Se. He had expected the aging general to head that way, and the fact that they were among the same group was just the sort of ironic twist that the universe liked to throw at him. Their reunion was quiet, though Iroh was joyous, and Zuko relieved. Iroh did most of the talking, telling Zuko of the people he had met on his way to the great walled city. Zuko for his part spared little detail of his journey, content to let his uncle have both of their shares of the conversation.

 

When they arrived in Ba Sing Se, they were placed in a cramped hostel in the Lower Ring. They shared a room with about fifty or so other single men and a small cot with each other. Iroh told Zuko to count his blessings as the squeezed in side by side that first night after a dinner of thin cabbage soup with some unidentifiable bits of meat. There were only twenty bunks, so most of the inhabitants had to sleep on top of thin blankets on the cold stone floor. Zuko kept his thoughts to himself and spent the rest of the night trying to ignore his uncle’s snoring.

 

The next morning, however, Iroh’s words about being thankful for what they had came back to Zuko when he went out to explore the rest of the Lower Ring. At least he and the other refugees at the hostel had a roof to sleep under. There were an overwhelming number of homeless in the area immediately around the hostels. Some of them cried out to any passersby for food or water, anything to hold off starvation for just one more day. Others lay listlessly on the streets watching the people pass with a listless gaze. The worst, though was the orphanage down the street from where Zuko and Iroh were staying. It was a dilapidated building covered in what seemed to be decades worth of grime and decay. From what he could see through the window, it was even more crowded than the hostel he and Iroh had made their temporary home. The few children healthy enough to be outside played in preternatural silence. The rest were inside on cots or blankets, wasting away of some illness. Zuko could smell the distinct stench of disease from the street, even surrounded by the unwashed and half-dead. A small child- he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl- met his eyes through the window. They lifted a hand weakly and reached out for him. Zuko’s breath caught in his throat, and there was a sudden burning sensation behind his eyes. He ducked his head and hurried back to his uncle.

 

“Wonderful news, Lee,” Iroh greeted Zuko by his pseudonym with jarring alacrity the moment he entered the room.

 

“What is it, Uncle?” Zuko asked, not really invested in the answer. Iroh handed Zuko his bag of belongings and clapped his shoulder.

 

“I have found us jobs and a new home.” Zuko blinked in surprise. He hadn’t even known that Iroh had left the hostel that day. Still, he followed his Uncle through the Lower Ring without seeing where they were going. He didn’t start paying attention until they passed through the gates to the Middle Ring. Now he felt curiosity begin to push its way through his despondency.

 

“Where are we going?” Zuko asked. Iroh smiled at his nephew and led him down a busy street just off the main road. He stopped in front of a modest looking tea shop and held his hands up as if showing of a prize. Zuko looked at the building dubiously.

 

“We are going to be tea servers,” Iroh declared. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Zuko’s lips twisted into something that he hoped would be mistaken for a smile.

 

“Sure,” he mumbled. Iroh’s smile slipped slightly but he shook it off.

 

“There is an apartment above the shop,” Iroh explained. “It’s not very much, only two rooms, but it’s more than enough for to bachelors.” Zuko really didn’t want to hurt his uncle’s feelings by telling him what he really thought of the idea of living in a hovel over a probably rodent infested tea shop.

 

“It sounds great, Uncle,” he said. “Thank you for finding this.” Iroh smiled at Zuko fondly and led him inside of the shop.

 

“Mushi,” an old man with a bushy mustache greeted Iroh. “Welcome back. This must be your nephew.” He nodded towards Zuko then turned back to Iroh. “We’re expecting our dinner rush soon. Can you two drop your things and get ready to serve?”

 

“We would be happy to,” Iroh agreed readily. To Zuko he lowered his voice and said. “Change into whatever you have that is clean for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll see about getting some suitable clothes.”

_\----------_

For a week, Zuko worked in the tea shop beside Iroh. He was a polite if taciturn server, but Nam-ji, the owner of the shop, didn’t mind his cold demeanor because ‘darned if Mushi didn’t brew the best pot of tea I’ve ever tasted’. It didn’t hurt that Zuko had attracted a small, but dedicated core of young female admirers who had a few copper coins to spend on tea and cakes on the off chance they might catch the young server’s eye. Zuko didn’t notice. Any space in his mind that wasn’t occupied by remembering orders was occupied by the memory of the orphan child reaching out for him through the window.

 

Sometime in his second week of work, Zuko was on his lunch break when he spotted her. Katara was walking down the main street. He had known, of course, that she and her friends had made it to Ba Sing Se. Nam-ji had told him and his uncle that the king had announced the Avatar’s arrival three days before he and Iroh made it to the city. But Zuko didn’t care about the Avatar at the moment as he jumped off of the bench he was sitting on and slid into the crowd.

 

Katara had wandered to the Middle Ring shops after leaving her brother with his new poetry writing friends. She had been invited to stay and watch her brother be dictylically eviscerated, but after the first few rounds of watching her brother flounder, she discovered that she wasn’t nearly as interested in poetry as Sokka. She chose to explore instead, though she paid more attention to the sheer amount of wares for sale than to the bustle of people around her. That is why she was caught off guard when she was suddenly pulled into an alleyway and suddenly found herself face to face with Zuko.

 

“You!” She gasped. “What-” Zuko held his hands up placatingly.

“Please hear me out,” he begged. “I need your help.” Katara stared at him bewildered.

He needed _her_ help?

 

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. She kept her voice low as to not attract attention just yet, but her hand hovered over her waterskin in case Zuko made a false move.

 

“I need…” he froze and seemed to fumble for the words. He cast a nervous glance down either end of the alley and lowered his voice. “I need the _Painted Lady’s_ help.”  Whatever Katara had expected him to say, that wasn’t it. She let her hand fall away from her water skin in shock.

 

“Wha…?”

 

“There’s…”Zuko fumbed again. “When my uncle and I got to the city...There’s an orphanage of sick kids and...I thought maybe you could…” Katara blinked rapidly. She couldn’t _possibly_ be hearing this.

 

“You’re asking me to heal sick orphans?” Several things were going through her mind, but she settled on suspicion. “This is a trap. What’s your game, Zuko? Are you going to try to kidnap me to get to Aang again?”  Zuko ran his hand through his hair agitatedly.

 

“Look, I’m done, okay?” he snapped. “I’m done with the Avatar. That’s not why I… Agni, would you just _listen?_ ” Katara folded her arms and looked Zuko over. He was dressed in shades of green and brown. He was clearly in disguise, Katara realized. That made her feel better. If he was trying to pass for Earth Kingdom, he wasn’t likely to attack her now. The alley only gave them the illusion of isolation. If a fight broke out, he would very quickly find himself in the middle of unwanted attention. He wouldn’t try anything there, but if she decided to meet with him to go to the Lower Ring…

 

“Why should I believe you?” she asked him. Zuko blanched for a moment and struggled to find an answer.

 

“Because…” he began. “Because...I came to you directly in the open. If I really wanted the Avatar, I could have just followed you back to him.” Katara’s eyes widened and she took an instinctive step backwards, but at the same time she couldn’t fault his reasoning. She hadn’t noticed him until he pulled her off of the street, and she knew how stealthy he could be. He could have followed her all the way to the house where she and her friends were staying before she realized he was there.

 

“Alright,” she said. “Fine, you approached _me_ . That doesn’t make this not a trap.” Zuko’s face fell, and Katara could almost hear his mind racing to find something to convince her. She rolled her eyes at herself and sighed. “What do you need _me_ for? After all, I’m sure your _friend_ can help you find medicine for them.”

 

“These kids are _really_ sick, Katara,” he insisted. Again he saw the sick child reaching out for him in his mind. Were they even still alive? He turned his head and cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice.

 

Katara was shocked. There had been tears in Zuko’s eyes. Actual tears. Zuko, she knew was many things- arrogant, impetuous, single-minded to the point of stupidity sometimes- but he wasn’t an actor. She didn’t think he could cry on command.

 

“Alright,” she said quietly. Zuko turned back in surprise.

 

“Alright?” he repeated. Katara nodded.

 

“I’ll help.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously and jabbed him in the chest with her pointer finger. “But if this is a trap, so help me I will _end you_.” Zuko gulped nervously in spite of himself and nodded mutely. Katara set her shoulders resolutely. “I’ll meet you at the gate to the Lower Ring tonight at eleven.”

 

“That’s past curfew,” Zuko pointed out. “How will you-”

 

“Let me worry about that,” Katara cut him off. “You’re not the only one who can be sneaky.” Zuko arched his brow at her, but relented with a shrug.

 

“Eleven it is,” he agreed. Then Zuko gasped and stiffened his spine.

 

“What is it?” Katara asked, looking around them sharply.

 

“My break is over,” he explained hurriedly making his way back to the street. “I have to get back to work.” Katara watched his retreating form, bewildered once again.

 

“ _Work_ ?” she repeated. What on _earth,_ she wondered, had happened to Zuko since she saw him last?

\--------

 

Zuko arrived at the gate to the Lower Ring carrying a sack of rice and some dried meat that he managed to steal from a particularly prosperous grocer. He was just in time according to the clock in the town square. It had been surprisingly easy to pull off. Although Ba Sing Se was well patrolled, the guards worked in predictable shifts. He made it with no one spotting him and found a dark alcove to wait for Katara. He could only hope that she had as easy a time getting there.

 

Ten minutes in, Zuko started to get nervous, but he reasoned that Katara wasn’t _that_ late. Maybe she underestimated how much time it would take to get there. After all, hadn’t he gotten lost in the Middle Ring his first few days there? He would give her a few minutes more.

 

Fifteen minutes after eleven, Zuko began to worry that she may have gotten caught. For all her bravado about her sneaking abilities, security in the Upper Ring was bound to be tighter than in the Middle and Lower Rings.. While he didn’t think the Dai Li would harm a friend of the Avatar, Zuko didn’t think they would just let her through with no question. Especially if she was already in her Painted Lady disguise. He had no way of communicating with her if she had been stopped. He decided to give her another few minutes to try and talk her way out of any trouble she might be in.

 

When he had been waiting nearly an hour, Zuko began to think he had been stood up. The thought brought a scowl to his face. Sure, she had little reason to trust Zuko, but he didn’t think Katara would turn her back on an orphanage full of sick children. Maybe he had misjudged her, he thought. Maybe her distrust and hatred of him had outweighed her desire to help. Now Zuko didn’t know what to do. He _might_ have been able to steal some medicine to bring, after all, he did know where the medical clinic was. But he didn’t know what the children were sick with, and he could only carry so many supplies on his own. Still, he had to do something.

 

Just before midnight, Zuko made it up in his mind to take the food to the orphanage on his own and try to bring medicine on another night. Katara had failed to show up whether by choice or not, but he could still help in his way. A fog had drifted over the street, and Zuko decided to take advantage of the extra cover. As he stepped out of the alcove, a slight movement caught his eye. At the end of the street, silhouetted by the light of the half-moon, there was a figure draped in long flowing robes, face veiled beneath a wide hat. Behind his mask, Zuko sighed in relief.

 

“You’re late,” he muttered when Katara got close enough. To his surprise, she seemed genuinely apologetic.

 

“My brother wouldn’t fall asleep,” she explained.

 

“Your friends don’t know you’re here?” he asked. Katara tilted her head up to him, and  he saw the crimson paint marking her face.

 

“They don’t know I’ve been doing this at all,” she told him. She turned and led him to a dark corner near the wall. “Come on.”

 

Katara drew some water from a nearby fountain and made a ramp up the wall. Zuko scrambled up ahead of her, and when he turned to help her up, he saw that the ramp was already dissolving back into water.

 

“We should stick to the roofs,” he told her. “Can you handle that?” Katara nodded silently and motioned for him to lead the way. The buildings in the Lower Ring were crowded close enough together that leaping from one to another proved to be almost easier than walking through the streets, even with Zuko’s sack of rice. They made it to the orphanage in little time.

 

As Zuko said, the children in the orphanage were gravely ill. Katara checked and found that a few of them were gone already. She took her hat and veil off and turned to Zuko, stricken.

 

“How can the city just let this happen?”  Zuko had no answer for her. He pushed his mask up- there was little fear that any of the children would wake up and see him, and there didn’t seem to be any adults in the immediate room.

 

“Can you help them?” he asked her. Katara pulled water from beneath her robes and let it surround her hands.

 

“I’ll do my best,” she whispered, sounding less confident than Zuko had hoped. She started with what seemed to be the worst cases, while Zuko peered into the dark, looking for the one he had seen that first miserable day, but he couldn’t tell one child from another now. He spun around in place helplessly.

 

“Stand guard,” Katara said softly. Zuko turned towards her and found her staring at him. The blue glow of her healing power lit her face and he saw sympathy there. He couldn’t help her heal, so she was giving him a task he could do. Zuko slid his mask back down and went to stand in guard in the shadows by the only door.

 

The healing took hours. Most of the children were in terrible shape, ill with something that had settled in their lungs. That turned out to be good news. Katara wasn’t sure what she could do against a virus- but the fluid on their lungs she could handle. When the children were able to breathe freely again, their fevers would break and they would have a fighting chance. Katara worried that she would run out of water, but she reached out and found a row of rain barrels full of stagnating water in the alley beside the orphanage. She used the better part of two barrels on her patients. The ones she was too late to save, she covered with the dingy sheets they lay under.

 

Finally, in the moonless hours just before dawn, she stepped out of the building, carrying her hat and veil under one arm. Zuko stepped into the light and lifted his mask. He looked concerned, and Katara was too tired to pull away when he reached out and wiped her face with his gloved hand, bringing tear smudged paint with it. Then Katara realized that she had been crying. She shook her head.

 

“It was too late for some of them,” she told him. “But the rest should be fine for now.” Zuko looked past her into the dark room where the children were now sleeping peacefully. He didn’t know if his was among the ones that Katara was able to save, but he decided didn't want to know. He turned his gaze back to Katara and then he bowed respectfully.

 

“Thank you,” he said. When he stood back up, Katara was staring at him intently, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. Zuko pulled his mask back over his face. “We should go.”

 

Katara nodded and put her hat and veil back on. With no small amount of effort, she pulled herself back up on the roof and followed Zuko back to the wall. She managed to keep up until they got to the Middle Ring,but when they climbed down the wall Zuko noticed she was breathing heavy.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Just tired.” Zuko couldn’t see Katara’s face, but there was no missing the tremor in her voice. He looked around quickly for any sign of a guard, then motioned for her to follow him. To his surprise, she did with no questions.

 

He took her to the tea shop. The owner wouldn’t be in for hours and, as long as they were quiet, Iroh wouldn’t wake until just after dawn.

 

“Where are we?” Katara asked, instinctively keeping her voice low. She followed Zuko into the kitchen where there was a small table tucked into the corner. She sat down while Zuko went to light the stove.

 

“We’re in Nam-Ji’s Tea Shop,” he told her. “My uncle and I work here.”  He glanced over his shoulder at Katara. She had removed her hat and veil, so he could see the surprised lift to her brows.

 

“Why?” she asked. “If you aren’t here to capture Aang, why are you and your uncle...here of all places?”  Zuko frowned as he filled a pot with water.

 

“They were hiring,” he muttered.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Katara chided. Zuko spared her another glance. In the dim light of the stove, the smudged red paint on her face stood out like blood and made her blue eyes look sharp and predatory. He swallowed and turned back to his task.

 

“Ba Sing Se is a big place,” he told her. “Uncle thought we could disappear here. Start new lives.”

 

“As tea servers,” Katara asked skeptically. Zuko shrugged.

 

“Uncle has a tea habit.”

 

“Does the owner know that you’re…” Katara’s question dangled meaningfully.

 

“As far as Nam-ji knows, Lee and Mushi are refugees looking to start over in Ba Sing Se,” Zuko replied firmly. “That’s _all_ we are.”  Katara went quiet for a long while, and Zuko got absorbed in his work, measuring out tea leaves and heating the water just right, the way Iroh had tried so many times to teach him.

 

“Is this where you want to be?” Katara asked. Zuko froze, as much in reaction to the fact that she had spoken as to what she said.

 

‘I…” Zuko blinked in confusion turned towards her. “I guess. It beats sleeping in the woods. Better than nothing.” Katara studied him, the way she had outside of the orphanage, and Zuko found he couldn’t break her gaze. Finally, she looked down at her hands folded together on the table and released him. The water was boiling now. Zuko turned back to the stove, his shoulders hunched, as if that would protect him from Katara’s piercing stare.

 

“You could join us,” Katara suggested impulsively. Zuko’s eyes bugged out of his head as her rounded on her.

 

“E-excuse me?” Katara blushed, but kept her eyes on his as she pressed.

 

“Aang needs a firebending master,” she said. “You could join us.” Zuko snorted at that.

 

“Sure,” he scoffed. “After all we’ve been through, I’m sure your friends will welcome me with open arms.”

 

“I’ll vouch for you,” Katara promised. “Come on! It’s got to be better than being a waiter.” Zuko felt his chest constrict. Was she pitying him? Who did this backwater peasant thinks she was?

 

“I'm doing just fine,” he grumbled. Katara smirked at him.

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet the tips are fantastic, too. ‘ _Would you like fruit tarts or tea cakes today, ma’am?’_ ”That  sparked Zuko’s ire. He had crossed the room before he knew he was moving, and towered over Katara, his fist clenched at his side and a tirade on his lips. Maybe this was a dead end job, but at least he was making an honest living. He was ready to tell her exactly where she could put her offer, but the words died in his throat when his eyes met hers.

 

It hadn’t occurred to Zuko how much healing would take out of Katara, but he now he wish he had given it more consideration. After hours healing the sick children, Katara looked drawn in spite of the challenging tilt to  her chin. There were dark circles under her eyes that the red paint couldn’t hide, and her hand trembled slightly, as if she had recently been under intense physical strain. And she had been. At his request. Zuko felt the heat of shame rise to his cheeks as the angry tension bled from his shoulders. There was no way he could be angry with her. Not now.

 

“Whatever,” he grumbled. He brought the tea tray over to the table, and poured some tea into  worn, dented cups that the owner kept for employee breaks and passed it to Katara. “Drink this.” Katara sniffed the mug’s contents and made a face.

 

“What _is_  this?” she asked. The smell reminded her of the Foggy Swamp.

 

“It’s a healing tea,” Zuko said. “It’s good for you.” Katara eyed the mug dubiously and took an experimental sip. It tasted worse than it smelled. It was like drinking stagnant, leaf littered water that had been warmed for some reason.

 

“ _Blech_! It's terrible.”  

 

“Agni…” Zuko rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Fine! Don’t drink it, then.” He poured himself a mug and hid a wince at the taste. His uncle’s always came out much better. With his luck, Katara would think he was trying to poison her. He glanced over at her and was surprised to see she was drinking it after all. She held her nose closed and was gulping it down as fast as the heat would allow, which was a bit insulting- Zuko thought she could at least pretend- but at least she trusted him enough to do even that.

 

“Ugh!” Katara groaned when she finished. “This had better make me strong enough to take on a whole troop of Fire Nation soldiers.”  Zuko smirked at her.

 

“Yeah, as if you need tea for that.” Had he just _complimented_ her?

 

Zuko cleared his throat and drained the rest of his tea. He could still feel warmth in his cheeks when he was done, so he began to clean their dishes.

“Are-are you feeling any better?” he asked. He put his hands in the basin and heated the dingy water.

 

 _“_ I'm exhausted,” Katara admitted. “But I need to head back. Everyone will be worried if I’m not there when they wake up.” That was an understatement, she thought. Her friends would probably be frantic, thinking that she had run afoul of the Dai Li. She stood up and stretched her aching muscles with a deep sigh. Then she bent some water from the sink and washed the paint from her face and arms. The sun was beginning to rise. It would be much harder to avoid the patrols in the early morning daylight, fog or no fog. As tired as she was, she would have to leave as soon as possible if she wanted to make it before Sokka organized a search team.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Zuko offered. Katara raised an eyebrow at him

 

“You're coming too?” she asked hopefully. “So, you'll join us?” 

 

 _“_ I just don’t want you to get arrested,” he told her. Katara's face fell.

 

“Would you at least consider it?” she asked. Zuko kept his eyes on the mug in his hands. Irrationally, he worried that if he met her eyes, he'd change his mind.

 

“I’ll... think about it,” he told her. “Maybe…” He made the mistake of glancing up at her, and immediately he felt his face warm once again. Her wide eyes were shining hopefully, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and Zuko- sleep deprived as he was- thought she looked incredibly pretty in the early morning light coming through the window.

 

“That's great!” she gushed. “I'll talk to the others, and-”

 

“I said _maybe_ ,” Zuko snapped gruffly. “I not promising anything except that I'm done hunting the Avatar.” Katara folded her arms with a scowl. Zuko found that that wasn't a bad look on her either.

 

“Is there a point in the day when you _aren't_ grumpy?” she asked. “I thought you were a morning person.”  Zuko's spun around towards her, flustered and annoyed.

 

“ _What_ ? Grumpy-” he sputtered  “I am _not-_ You don't even- I _never_ said I was -” Katara brushed past him, rolling her eyes.

 

“And here I thought princes were supposed to be articulate and witty,” she mumbled. “Why don't you take a day or two to think of a comeback. You can write it down and send it to me.”

 

“Whatever,” Zuko muttered. He huffed in irritation and collected her tea cup. Katara was smiling smugly at him when he faced her, but there was a friendly gleam in her eyes.

 

“That's one for Katara and zero for Zuko.” She she spun on her heels and left the kitchen before Zuko could reply. He was glad for it, because in spite of himself, he felt his lips twitch up into a smile.

 

The walk to the gate to the Upper Ring was blessedly uneventful. Ba Sing Se had started to stir and, despite their fears about being caught and questioned, they weren’t the only citizens out on the street. A couple of guards spotted them and eyed them curiously, but didn’t stop them. There was something insinuating in their gazes that made Zuko blush.

 

“They think we’re…” he sputtered. “You know...together.” Katara looked between the guard and Zuko and quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Probably,” she agreed. To Zuko’s surprise, she didn’t seem nearly as shocked as he was.  

 

“But...they- I mean...We’re not...I wouldn’t…!” Katara stopped and crossed her arms. The scowl on her face told Zuko that he had somehow upset her.

 

“Excuse me!” she snapped. “You could do a _lot_ worse. Now, stop freaking out. This works for us. No one’s going to question why you’re walking me back to the gate this early in the morning.” Zuko flushed and nodded.

 

“Um...sure,” he muttered.

 

“Good.” Katara glanced over her shoulder where a guard had paused to watch the exchange with curiosity tinged with suspicion. She smiled up at Zuko and ordered, “Take my hand.”

 

“What?” Zuko almost yelped. Katara snatched his hand and gave him a peck on his cheek. Zuko felt like his face was going to burst into flame. Behind Katara, he saw the guard chuckle and move on.

 

“Gotta sell it,” Katara mumbled. Zuko was glad to see a furious blush on her face, too. She wasn’t as flustered as he was, but at least he knew that it wasn’t as easy for her as she was trying to pretend.

 

They walked to the gates with as much space between them as their linked hands would allow, until Katara dropped his hand to look for her pass to the Upper Ring. The guards at the gate, as the others before them had, looked at the pair with interest. Katara bit her lip nervously and hoped that they didn’t recognize her. The last thing she wanted was her friends hearing about her coming back to the Upper Ring at dawn in the company of a young man. She turned back to Zuko and smiled again.

 

“You’ll think about what I said?” she murmured. At their distance, she hoped they just looked like lovers saying goodbye to the guards. Zuko blanched and looked down at his feet.

 

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. “I have to get back.” He glanced at the guards at the gate, then surprised Katara with an awkward kiss on her cheek. It was quick and he just missed her eye, but it was enough to set Katara’s heart thudding in her chest.

 

“Uh...wha..?” She gasped. It was payback for earlier, she thought. But Zuko’s face as at least as red as she was sure hers was.

 

“Just...selling it,” he told her with a shrug. Then he spun on his heels and nearly fled back down the road. Katara stared after him for a moment, stunned, until one of the guards cleared his throat. Then Katara remembered herself. She flashed her pass and ran back to the house where she and her friends were staying. There was no one awake yet to her relief. Katara went to her room to stash her disguise and get a couple of hours of sleep. But as she lay down to rest, she found her thoughts drifting to Zuko and whether he had made it home safely. If he would take her up on her offer. If he knew how gentle his hand was when he wiped the tears from her face earlier.

\------

 

The next time she saw Zuko, he knelt at her feet in a cavern of green crystals, tossed in there by Dai Li agents. His sister had taken the city. The city where Zuko and his Uncle had claimed they were in to start new lives. Katara didn’t believe in coincidences.

“I trusted you,” she spat at him when she found her voice again. “You said you were finished trying to capture Aang. I thought you were done with the war.” Zuko fell back, arms and legs splayed as if he were going to scuttled back, away from her rage.

 

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he insisted. Katara snorted in disbelief.

 

“She’s _your sister_!” she growled. Zuko shook his head.

 

“I didn’t know she knew I was here. I swear!” He got to his feet cautiously and backed away from Katara.

 

“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” she demanded. “Was that whole thing at the orphanage a long con? You used sick children to gain my trust? For what?”

 

“I _never_ asked for your trust!” Zuko snapped. He crossed to the other side of the cavern and sat with his knees pulled to his chest, and back to Katara. It was an incredibly foolish move that left his back open and vulnerable to whatever attack the waterbender made, but he found he didn’t care. Behind him, he heard Katara pacing, like a caged moose-lion.

 

“I was stupid to think you’d changed,” she muttered. Zuko wondered if she was even talking to him anymore. “You’re Fire Nation. You’re Fire Nation _royalty_. All any of you know to do is steal and destroy anything good in the world.”

 

“Whatever,” Zuko grunted. He heard Katara stop pacing, felt her razor sharp gaze dig into his back, and prepared for whatever she decided to do.

 

“You’re horrible people you know,” she told him coldly. “Your people destroyed my family. The Fire Nation took my mother!” Zuko froze, then chanced a look over his shoulder. Katara had taken the same position as Zuko on the other side of the cave. Her shoulders were shaking, and Zuko realized with distant alarm that she was crying.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “That’s something we have in common.” Katara lifted her head hesitantly, and turned to look at Zuko. He was facing her now, though his eyes were focused on the floor of the cave. She stared at him for a while, confused as to why he wasn’t lashing back at her. She was irrationally angry at him for it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

 

“What happened to _your_ mother?” she asked at last. Zuko looked up at her and Katara flinched. His face was set hard and angry, but his eyes looked so...lost.

 

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “One day I woke up and she was just...gone. My father said she was banished for killing my grandfather, but...I don’t buy it. My mother wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Zuko’s lips flattened to a thin line and he dropped his eyes back to the floor. His hands flexed, clutching at the dirt.

 

“When the Fire Nation soldiers came for the last waterbender,” Katara told Zuko, “my mother told me to run for my father.” Zuko’s eyes darted back to Katara, but she was no longer looking at him. Her hand worried the ever present pendant at her throat like a talisman. “The order was just for the last waterbender. They didn’t have any details beyond that. So when they demanded to know where she was, my mother-” Katara’s throat closed around a sob. Zuko started to climb to his feet, his hand outstretched towards her, but he stopped himself, balled his hand into a fist and clutched it to his chest. He knew how the story ended.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His shoulders sagged under the weight of a century of his family’s crimes. All he had ever wanted was to go home. He didn’t want this war. He had never wanted this war, but before it had been a narrow distaste and concern for his country’s citizens. Now he was faced with the horror and tragedy the other side had faced, and he was ashamed. “I’m so sorry.”

 

There was nothing else that Zuko could think of to say. So he sat quietly, with his eyes averted to give Katara some semblance of privacy in her grief. Eventually, she managed to get her tears under control. When Zuko risked turning back to her, he found her watching him. In the dim light of the cavern, he could just make out the same searching gaze that she had turned on him before. He was a riddle she was trying to solve. Once again, he found he couldn’t pull away from her eyes.

 

“You know for the longest time,” she said after a while, “when I pictured the Fire Nation- the enemy- I saw the helmets and the masks that the soldiers who came for me, or the ships that brought them.” Zuko didn’t say anything, but his brow drew down in confusion. “Then you came, and then _you_ were the face of the enemy.” Zuko flinched and his hand went automatically to the edge of his scar.

 

“I see…” he murmured. Katara sighed, and slumped against the wall behind her.

 

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” she told him. “You just...you have too many faces, you know? You’re the Fire Nation prince trying to stop me and my friends from ending this war; you’re the Blue Spirit helping the poor and sick; you’re...a refugee trying to hide in Ba Sing Se. I thought I knew everything I needed to about you, but you're someone else every time we meet.” She scanned his face again, frowning. “Who are you, Zuko? Who are you really?”

 

Zuko gaped at her. Her question bounced around inside of his head, rattling everything in him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to say...he wasn’t sure what, but he was spared from replying when the wall exploded.

 

He wasn’t sure how it happened- his reflexes acting on his behalf- but suddenly he was in front of Katara, crouched defensively and reaching for the dao swords that weren’t on his back. Before the dust settled, Zuko heard familiar voices coming from the hole in the wall.

 

“Most impressive Avatar Aang,” Iroh’s ever-cheerful voice sounded in the chamber.

 

“Are they in here?” Aang asked. Suddenly a strong stiff breeze cut through the dust and debris and there was Iroh with the Avatar. Behind him, Katara gasped. Then she was running over towards the duo, and throwing her arms around the young boy. Aang hugged her back, but he scowled suspiciously at Zuko over her shoulder. Zuko glared back at him.

 

“You found us!” Katara cried happily, oblivious to the exchange.

 

“Nephew!” Iroh had picked his way across the cavern and pulled Zuko into an embarrassingly eager hug.

 

“We need to get out of here,” Katara warned. “Someone _definitely_ heard that.”  Almost as if she had summoned it, there was a rumbling nearby just before Dai Li agents opened another wall and stormed in.

 

“Stop!” one of the guards  yelled. “By order of Crown Princess Azula.”

 

“No…” Zuko breathed.

 

“That’s our cue to leave!” A hand wrapped around Zuko’s wrist, and he was surprised to find Katara pulling him through the hole  Aang had made. He stumbled along behind them blindly until they reached an even bigger chamber. It was colder than the one where Zuko and Katara had been imprisoned in, and water streamed down the walls to collect in a wide, knee deep pool in the center.  

 

“There’s a tunnel over there,” Iroh announced announced pointing to a far wall. They ran for it, but stopped short when four Dai Li agents ran out of the entrance and fell into line.

“I might have known you’d turn traitor.” The entire group whirled around to find Azula standing behind them, but the princess’ eyes were on her uncle and brother. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Zuzu.”

 

“Azula,” he growled. There was really nothing else he could say. Around him, Iroh, Katara and Aang shifted into battle stances. The only way out now was to fight. Zuko narrowed his eyes at his sister and raised his fist.

 

“It doesn’t have to be this way, brother,” Azula said. “Ba Sing Se has fallen to the Fire Nation. You can come home with me. As a victor. Restored to your rightful place.”

 

Zuko hesitated for a moment and let her words settle in. Katara was next to him, ready to take on the whole of the Dai Li, but able to spare him a cautious, not quite unfriendly glance. What would he do? Azula was offering him the only thing he had wanted for the last three years. A way home. His place in line for the throne back. His father’s heir once again. And he meant what he had told Katara all those weeks ago about using his power to end the war when he became the Fire Lord.

 

_Who are you, really?_

 

Azula was a liar. She _always_ lied. Unless the truth was more to her advantage. Which was it now, he wondered. What would she gain if he went with her?

 

At last, he met Azula’s eyes with grim determination and breathed a plume of fire. Azula’s eyebrow twitched as she raised her arm.

 

“Well?” she asked.

 

“There’s always a catch with you,” Zuko said. Then he turned on his heel and sent a blast of fire at the line of Dai Li agents blocking their escape. Azula yelled in rage and made to attack Zuko when she was knocked off of her feet by a powerful wave. Katara came  up beside Zuko with her eyes flashing angrily. She was ready for a fight.

 

Azula leapt up with a shriek of rage. Then, as if her scream was the signal, the cavern erupted into chaos. The Dai Li agents sprang into action, falling on the group with a barrage of rocks and earthen cuffs. Aang pulled up a wall to stop them, only to have the agents punch hole through it. Two of the agents teamed up against Aang, forcing him to defend himself. He dodged their attacks as best he would while trying to find somewhere stable to plant his feet. Finally, he gave up on earthbending and shot a powerful blast of air at them instead. One of them was knocked off of his feet and into a wall, but the other had managed to stay standing, and was already sending a boulder careening for his head before Aang could react. Only a thick icy column stopped Aang from being decapitated.

 

“Now would be a real good time for the Avatar State, Aang,” Katara called to him as she froze one Dai Li agent to a wall. Zuko and Iroh came to her side to fend off the remaining agents.

 

“We’ll hold them off,” Iroh said. “Whatever you’re going to do, Aang, do it quick.” The blood drained from Aang’s face, but he nodded determinedly then bent a stone tent around himself.

 

“What is he _doing?_ ” Zuko growled. He dodged an attack from an agent as he lashed out at him with a fire whip.

 

“No idea!” Katara replied. “But I hope it works!” The remaining Dai Li agents were learning. Katara was trying to trap another in ice, but they kept dodging her, using stone platforms to keep out of the water. Behind them Azula laughed.

 

“Why don’t you all give up?” she taunted. “Ba Sing Se is already mine. All I need is the Avatar and your heads to present to the Fire Lord, and my victory will be complete!”

 

“I won’t let that happen!” Zuko yelled. He sent a blast of fire at the Dai Li agent who had turned his attention on the prince. The blast didn’t land, but it distracted the agent long enough for Zuko to get close enough to punch him. The agent fell to the ground, striking his head on the hard floor, and didn’t move. Then Zuko rounded on his sister.

 

“Are you ready for another round, Zuko?” Azula smirked at him with a condescending gleam in her eye. Zuko hesitated for just a moment, but it was enough for Azula to take the opening. Blue flame erupted from her fist, wide and wild enough to cause the other combatants to duck away. Zuko threw up a shield of his own flame around him and followed it with a series of blast that force Azula to dodge.

 

“Traitor!” she accused Zuko. “You embarrassment to your country _and_ family! Father should have just gone ahead and killed you!” The proclamation rang throughout the cavern. From the corner of his eye, Zuko saw Katara turn to him sharply, wide-eyed in her disbelief. She quickly turned her attention back to her own fight, though.

 

Katara and Iroh had teamed up against the last two Dai Li agents. The agents were looking for a way to break away and circle back around, but Katara and Iroh had them pinned, and with the other two agents down there was no way to break the duo’s focus. The Dai Li agents were reduced to throwing up shields against icy spike and fiery whips. They would fall soon, was Katara’s triumphant thought. And then the three of them could turn their attention to Azula while Aang...did whatever he was doing. Katara’s eyes flickered to Aang’s earthen shelter worriedly. What _was_ he doing?

 

What happened next, Katara would later blame herself for, though even if she hadn’t taken her eyes off of the agents for that split second, the  only warning had been a brief eye contact between the remaining two Dai Li before they stomped on the ground and raised a wall. Katara and Iroh had just enough time dodge as the wall rushed forward and slammed against the opposite wall. And just like that, the advantage was gone. The agents ran over to flank Azula, and bore down on the three.

 

“Aang!” Katara shouted. “What are you doing?”

 

“Hiding!” Azula sneered. “Not that it’ll do him much good.”  Her laugh rang through the cavern once again, but this time it was overtaken by a sharp cracking noise, and suddenly, the roof of the cave split open, sending down a spray of rocky debris.

 

“Someone need a champion earthbender?” Katara looked up with a relieved grin.

 

“Toph!” she cried. Her friend wasn’t alone. Her brother and Appa’s faces appeared in the new hole. Azula snarled and threw a ball of flame at the newcomers.

 

“The calvary can’t save you!” she declared. She stepped forward to launch another attack, but she was distracted once again by a bright flash of light and bone rattling _boom_. Aang had emerged from his stone sanctuary shrouded in a pale bluish glow. The combatants stared at him in awe.

 

“The Avatar stated,” Iroh gasped. Aang began to rise, and he turned his gaze on Azula and the Dai Li. Where his eyes should have been were bright glowing sockets. The two Dai Li agents turned and fled the cavern with shrieks of terror. But Azula just glared back at him, her teeth bared and gritted. Iroh noticed what she was doing moments too late to stop her.

 

“Don’t!” he shouted as his niece raised two fingers and aimed at the boy. Horrified screams filled the cavern and the lighting found its mark. Iroh and Zuko turned on Azula and drew her into a fight. Katara bent a column of water and propelled herself into the air to catch Aang in mid-fall.

 

“Go!” Zuko shouted at her. “We’ll hold her off!” Katara hesitated, but the dead weight of Aang’s body in her arms kept her focused on her ascent. Her friends reached down and pulled Aang up an onto Appa’s saddle. She looked down at the battle and Sokka could see she was considering going back into the fray. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

 

“They need help!” Katara insisted, tugging her arm away. Sokka shook his head.

 

“Aang needs you right now,” he said. “You’re his only chance.” Katara cast one more helpless look at Iroh and Zuko, but Sokka was right. She let him and Toph pull her on to Appa’s saddle. Zuko and Iroh would be fine, she told herself as she pulled out a vial of water from the Spirit Oasis. They always were.

 

Zuko tried not to look back at the arguing Water Tribe siblings. He willed them to keep going while he fought desperately against his sister. Iroh had circled around to Azula’s back, so she had to keep turning to defend herself from either side. She didn’t seem worried, though. She was still managing to keep up with their attacks, even though they were fighting hard to make sure she didn’t have time to throw another lighting bolt. They were at a stalemate. Azula couldn’t attack, but Iroh and Zuko couldn’t stop attacking to make a get away. They needed to distract her.

 

Zuko seldom had reason to believe that the universe or the spirits or whoever doled out luck was on his side, but now was one such occasion. He saw the precarious pile of rocks on a weak looking ledge not far above them. He caught Iroh’s eye and motioned to them, and then, hoping his uncle had gotten the message, he sent a powerful blast of fire at it. The impact of it managed to weaken the ledge further, until it collapsed. Azula leapt backwards away from the falling rocks.

 

There was finally an opening. As the dust cleared, Zuko grabbed his Uncle’s arm and pulled him through the tunnel the the Dai Li had entered through. It let them out in a corridor in the palace. Neither Zuko nor Iroh had any idea of where they were, but they heard the sounds of Azula shouting orders far too close behind them. They chose a direction and ran.

 

Fortunately, Azula and her agents hadn’t had time to sound the alarm, but the pair drew attention to themselves nonetheless. Bewildered shouts for them to halt rang out in their wake.

 

“Keep going!” Iroh shouted. Zuko didn’t need to be told, but he sped up anyway. Somehow they had made it back to the atrium. Dai Li agents who had been milling around startled at their abrupt entrance, crouching into defensive positions before they knew who Iroh and Zuko were. The firebenders spared no words with the agents. Iroh leapt in front of Zuko, opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and breathed out a whirl of fire on them. Zuko took advantage of their confusion and dispatched the agents who were trying to shut the door. He called back for his uncle and they fled the palace into the courtyard of the palace.

 

The scene was chaos. If Azula’s take over of Ba Sing Se had been near seamless from within the palace, it had been much messier outside. There was a riot of citizens, both earthbenders and non-benders armed with whatever they could get their hands on, demanding to know what was happening and where the king or the Dai Li were as they did their best to battle the Fire Nation soldiers that had breached the walls without warning. Iroh and Zuko managed to slip through the melee unnoticed and make it to the Upper Ring. The pandemonium was just as furious there, with people screaming in fear and pain, but they didn’t have time to stop an assess.

 

“Mushi! Lee!” Halfway through the Upper Ring, a voice cut through the din. Iroh paused for half a second to find one of the regular patrons of the tea shop- a rich man who occasionally went to the Middle Ring for tea and a game of Pai Sho- waving at them from across what used to be a public courtyard. “This way!”

 

“Uncle-” Zuko started to protest, but Iroh was already on his way over.

 

“Anik,” Iroh huffed. “What is happening?” Anik motioned for Zuko and Iroh to follow him. He led them to a hidden path just beyond a small garden. At the end, there was a hole in the stone about the size of a small door. A narrow flight of stairs led down the outside of the wall. These, too were hidden from immediate sight, and the Fire Nation soldiers outside hadn’t seemed to notice the few citizens making their escape.

 

“My family has gotten out already,” Anik said. “I was on my way to join them when I saw you. Hurry, we must go before we are found.” Zuko started to protest. They couldn’t just leave Ba Sing Se to it’s fate. His thoughts turned to the orphans in the Lower Ring. Was anyone watching for their wellbeing? But Iroh grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.

 

“Nephew, we can do more good from the outside than in here,” he said. Zuko struggled against his grip, but Anik had already bent the hole in the wall closed. There was no other choice but to go forward.

 

Anik joined his family at the bottom of the stairs and gathered his young daughter in his arms.

 

“We are going to Gao Ling,” he told the other two. “We have family that can take us in. What will you two do?”

 

“We will be fine,” Iroh assured him. He bowed respectfully to Anik, who returned the gesture. “Thank you. May the spirits protect you until we meet again.” Anik reached under his robes and handed Iroh a small purse.

 

“It isn’t much,” Anik said, “but it should help you along your way.” He paused and eyed Zuko appraisingly before he reached into his robe again and handed Zuko a smooth round tile. It was a white lotus Pai Sho piece.

 

“Wha-” He accepted the piece unsure of how else to respond. Anik smiled ruefully.

 

“Hang onto that,” he said. “You’ll never know when you’ll need it.”

 

“Thank you, my friend,” Iroh said once more. He motioned for Zuko to put the piece away. “Keep that close. Let’s go.” Zuko tucked the Pai Sho piece into his pocket, and followed Iroh into a thick tangle of thorny brush away from the city.

 

They had just barely made it clear of Ba Sing Se, but they had made it without injury. Zuko stood beside his uncle on the hill overlooking the walled city, too stunned to say anything. Their new beginning melted in front of them in the heat of the Fire Nation’s victory. Zuko looked over at his uncle and saw that his eyes were suspiciously wet. He turned away quickly. Iroh sniffed and cleared his throat.

 

“Well,” he said somberly. “It seems we’re back to where we started. We should plan our next move. Prince Zuko?” Iroh’s brow furrowed in concern when he saw his nephew scanning the skies overhead. “What are you thinking?”

 

“I’m thinking we should go after the Avatar,” Zuko told his uncle grimmly. Iroh jumped as if he had been shocked, but Zuko didn't seem to notice. _Who are you, Zuko?_

 

“Nephew, I don’t think your father will change his mind at this point, even if you _do_ bring him the Avatar,” Iroh said with a disappointed sigh. Zuko turned back to Iroh with a hard gleam in his eye.

 

“I know,’ he said. “But someone needs to teach the Avatar firebending. I doubt anyone else is lining up to volunteer.” Iroh gaped at Zuko for a moment, then he smiled. There were tears in his eyes again, but this time there was pride there as well.

 

“In that case, we should see about getting some supplies.” He clapped his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and they turned their backs on Ba Sing Se.

 

_Who are you, really?_

 

Zuko smirked sardonically to himself.

 

_Guess I'll find out._

 


End file.
